Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75: ’Time To Escape’

Florian’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his lungs burning as he forced himself forward, weaving through the winding underground passage. Each step sent a jolt of pain through his legs, but he didn’t dare slow down. The damp air clung to his skin, thick and suffocating, pressing against his throat like invisible hands.

He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

’I... I did it...’

His fingers trembled as he rifled through Charles’ coat pocket, his grip on the fabric vice-tight. His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out everything but the frantic rhythm of his own heartbeat. His vision blurred with sweat and exhaustion, and for a split second, the uneven stone floor nearly sent him sprawling.

Then his fingertips brushed against something solid—thin, crinkled parchment.

The map.

A sharp exhale burst from his lips, half relief, half disbelief. His hands clenched around it as if it might vanish, the fragile paper crinkling beneath his desperate grip. He shoved it into his own pocket, barely slowing his pace.

’It worked. It fucking worked. Yes!’

For the first time since waking up in this cursed world, something had gone right. No immediate retaliation. No suffering at the hands of a stronger opponent. No cruel twist of fate dragging him back into the abyss.

He had won.

He had outmaneuvered Charles.

Stolen the map.

And now, he was sprinting toward freedom.

Still, paranoia clung to him like a second skin. His nerves remained razor-sharp, waiting—expecting—the worst. Any moment now, he would hear it.

The scrape of boots against stone.

The echo of a furious, ragged breath.

Charles’ enraged snarl, promising pain, promising retribution.

But there was nothing.

Only the steady drip... drip... of water from the ceiling, the rhythmic pounding of his own footfalls against the damp stone floor.

The silence felt unnatural. A trick. A trap.

But then—

A whisper of wind curled against his damp skin, feather-light but unmistakable. A breeze.

His heart leapt into his throat.

He was close.

A choked, giddy sound bubbled up in his chest—half a laugh, half a sob. It felt unreal. After everything, after the blood, the terror, the pain—he was really going to escape.

’I’m going to make it. I can actually get out.’

His focus locked onto the path ahead, the world around him narrowing to a singular point: the exit.

A few feet ahead, another marker scratched into the cave wall—Levi’s signal. The last one.

Then, just beyond it—

A ladder.

His breath shuddered out of him.

The wooden rungs stretched upward, leading to a trapdoor.

Salvation.

Relief crashed over him like a wave, so overwhelming it nearly stole his strength. Skidding to a halt, he ripped Charles’ coat and pants from his body, discarding them like a second skin he no longer needed. The map—his map now—was safely secured in his pocket.

He grasped the ladder, fingers aching, legs screaming—but he climbed. Fast. Desperate. Heart hammering against his ribs like it wanted to burst free.

Step after step, higher and higher, until finally—

His fingers brushed the rough wood of the trapdoor.

Almost there.

Bracing himself, he shoved against it—

Nothing.

The door didn’t budge.

His breath hitched.

Florian shoved harder, his palms pressing into the splintered wood.

Still nothing.

A sliver of ice slid down his spine.

No, no, no, not now—

He slammed his shoulder against it, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Panic clawed its way up his throat, cold and suffocating.

It’s stuck.

Or worse—

It’s locked.

A shuddering exhale left him as he pressed his forehead against the wood, fingers gripping the edges until his knuckles went white.

He had been so close.

Too close.

And now—now he might still be trapped.

Had Levi tricked him?

’Fuck! this can’t be happening.’

Trapped. He was trapped.

A creak.

A thin sliver of light sliced through the darkness, chasing away the suffocating shadows. The trapdoor moved—then suddenly, it was yanked open with a forceful tug. Cold night air rushed in, crisp and clean, filling his lungs in a way that nearly made him dizzy.

Without hesitation, he reached up, grasping Levi’s outstretched hand. Levi tightened his grip and pulled, hoisting Florian up with a sharp, steady motion. His boots scraped against the damp ladder rungs, the rush of open air against his skin sending shivers down his spine.

Then, finally—finally—his feet hit solid ground.

Levi went completely rigid, his entire body locking up as if Florian had just stabbed him instead. "W-Wha—again? Why do you keep—"

"Thank you." Florian’s voice came out raw, hoarse, barely above a whisper. His fingers curled tighter into the fabric of Levi’s jacket, grounding himself in the feeling of something real. Something solid. He swallowed hard, his throat burning. ’He didn’t betray me. He’s safe. He’s here.’

For days, all he had known was pain, fear, and manipulation. His body had been a pawn, his mind a battlefield of nightmares. He had been used, discarded, controlled. But now—this—this was his. His choice.

Levi stood frozen for a moment longer, clearly unsure, but then—hesitantly—he lifted his arms and returned the hug. It was stiff, awkward, as if Levi wasn’t used to offering comfort. But he didn’t pull away. He just... let Florian hold on.